SEDUCTIVE: A Contemporary Romance Anthology

by Anthology

  “Impossible.” She would have made sure to sign everything. Olympia was nothing if not thorough. “There must be some mistake.”

  “I’m afraid not. Of course, I take most of the blame. I was preoccupied with the child and… Well, this matter must be rectified immediately, I’m sorry to say. The state courts have already become involved.”

  “What do you mean, the courts are involved? I’m sorry, I don’t have a law degree so I’m having trouble following you.” He pinched his nose in agitation.

  “That is a matter for Mrs. Trumbald. Who did you say you were again, Mr. Anderson?”

  “I’m a concerned party and Renee’s daytime caregiver.”

  “A male nanny…unorthodox, I must say. However, you’re not authorized to handle these affairs, and to protect attorney–client confidentiality, I am unwilling to discuss them further,” Marvin replied. “Please have Mrs. Trumbald contact me immediately.”

  Harlan hung up the phone with a sick sense of dread falling heavy in his abdomen. The adoption wasn’t completed. The state was involved. He didn’t need a law degree to put two and two together, but he’d felt testy with Mr. Bower and came out with the first thing on his mind. Of course he understood the implications. If this wasn’t settled, then there was a good possibility that the state would take Renee away from them. From Olympia, he corrected himself.

  It made him sick to his stomach.

  He dialed her cell phone number by memory, the receiver balanced between his ear and shoulder while he flipped the scrambled eggs out of the pan and into a steamy pile on a plate.

  Olympia answered seconds before voicemail would have kicked in. “Harlan, I’m busy. Is this an emergency?”

  “No, not yet,” he said in warning.

  “Not yet,” she repeated. “Well then, I’m going to need you to handle things for me. I can’t talk at the moment.” He heard papers flip in the background. “I had an artist back out at the last minute. Everything has to be redone.”

  “But the law—”

  “Harlan.” The syllables were terse. Stressed. “Handle it, please. As long as no one is dying, then I’ll see you tonight. It’s crisis mode here.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but heard the click of a call going dead. She was right, he thought, forcing himself to hang up with slow deliberation rather than slam down the receiver. If it was as simple as a signature on a piece of paper, as Marvin Bower led him to believe, then maybe he would be able to handle it himself. There were copies of the adoption paperwork in her office. He could get her to sign when she came home this evening.

  It was strange being in her personal space without her there. Personal touches were kept to a minimum, although she’d added a photo of Renee to her desk. One he’d taken of the two of them playing outside. It warmed his heart to see it there. A cursory glance of the space assured him there were no papers out of place and he’d need to do a bit more digging to find the folder regarding her executorship he knew she kept somewhere in that office.

  Renee’s call came from the other room. “Harlan!”

  He walked out of the office, determined to investigate later. Then he and the baby spent the rest of the day with their schedules packed. They read from a few books he’d brought, worked on their numbers, and walked down the street to the closest park. He made sure to bundle her up and ended up carrying her part of the way when she complained of being winded.

  The days were getting shorter, the nights longer, and the breeze colder with the approach of winter. Piles of orange and red and brown leaves were heaped in the lawns they passed. Soon, he knew, they wouldn’t be able to walk outside anymore. He wanted to make the most of it while they could.

  What would he do, he considered, gripping her hand, if he didn’t have this little girl in his life anymore? A wave of sickness took him by surprise. He wanted her in his life. Somewhere in the past few weeks, yes, the lines had blurred when they probably shouldn’t have, when he should have been strong, not given in, and maintained boundaries. He’d gone from simple affection to love. And he couldn’t see a future that didn’t include Renee and Olympia. They were a package deal. Harlan knew he wanted the whole package and nothing less.

  Olympia was going to hate it when he spoke to her later. Told her the truth she probably already knew but didn’t want to admit. A triumphant smile split his face at the thought. Yes, she was going to hate it, and she was going to argue with him until she turned red. But he figured after he told her about handling the issue with Renee, she would be willing enough to hear him out.

  He hoped.

  His mother came by briefly and dropped off a jar of her homemade marinara sauce—along with a toy for Renee and another invitation for family dinner—and in the evening Harlan got to work on dinner. He had the baby fed, bathed, and ready for bed by the time Olympia dragged herself through the door.

  She gripped the kitchen table with fingers turned white at the knuckles. Her hair, tucked into a neat bun when she’d left in the morning, was now limp around her face, pieces hanging down to her shoulders.

  “You look exhausted,” he said before he could censor himself. Correction: She looked like she’d come in last place for a triathlon in Hell.

  The grin she shot him didn’t meet her eyes. “Gee, thanks. Exactly what I wanted to hear right when I get home. And whatever it is you made for dinner, it smells great. That’s how you compliment someone, Harlan.” She groaned, stretching her back and placing her hands on her hips.

  “How about you sit down, grab a plate, and try to relax.” He kept his tone light and without demand.

  “I think I’m just going to pour some wine. Maybe soak in the tub for a little bit. It was a hell of a long day at work. They’re really pushing my buttons since I put in my notice.” She bent to kick off her heels, knocking them into the corner near the coat rack. “Carl has been on my ass about firing Paolo since the incident the other day. I’m trying to save him but it isn’t an easy argument to win. Is Renee asleep?” Then she answered her own question. “Sure she is. Why would I even ask?”

  “You know, you don’t have to save everyone,” he said casually. The marinara got one last stir in the pot he’d kept warm for her. “One of these days, it might be okay to lean on someone else.” Pasta next. Parmesan cheese on top. There was nothing like a good plate of spaghetti and Mom’s homemade marinara sauce at the end of the day.

  “Oh? And who would that be?” Olympia asked.

  “Someone you know, maybe.” He followed her down the hallway and into the den, where she flopped on the couch with her arms above her head. Instead of leaving her room to breathe, he made himself comfortable at her feet. “Paolo doesn’t need you to fight his battles. Carl doesn’t need you to fight his battles.”

  “If not me, then who?”

  “They have to do it themselves, I would imagine. They’re adults. Paolo is capable of making his own decisions, and it was his decision to come in to work piss-ass drunk.”

  “Maybe so. However, he’s been a loyal employee to the company, and he’ll be able to do great work once I’m gone.”

  “Ah. You’re worried about what’s going to happen after you leave.”

  “I am, I admit. I don’t want it to go downhill just because Ashleigh thinks she knows what she’s doing.”

  “Is she taking your spot?” It annoyed him when his voice came out frustrated.

  “I have a feeling she is,” she tossed back. “I caught her in my office the other day with swatches of paint colors and fabrics. I have the sneaking suspicion that had I not put in my notice on my own, they would have found a way to bump her up regardless. Her up and me down. Or out. I just wish I knew why.”

  “What you’re saying is it doesn’t matter how good a job you do on this fundraiser, because there wasn’t going to be a promotion for you anyway.”

  The observation hit her hard and Harlan felt guilty when Olympia winced. “You know, that’s a horrible way to look at it,” she griped.


  “Because I’m making sense,” he insisted.

  “I don’t want to hear it. Sorry. I’m done talking about it.” She snuggled closer to the throw pillow beneath her head, eyes closed. He let her ramble on about the rest of her day. There was distress, frustration lying just beneath the surface. He listened to the story unfold. Carl apparently had planned on serving crab wontons for a fundraiser appetizer while Ashleigh had decided they should cater to guest allergies and stick with vegetable crudités.

  Harlan wondered at Olympia’s reaction through their conversation and then tried to dismiss his concern. She looked too frail. Too worn and pale and exhausted. He didn’t want to push her any further than he had to.

  Then he remembered the phone call. “Well, maybe you want to hear about the mess I dealt with today,” he began.

  “Is Renee in bed?” she asked again, rubbing her cheek against the pillow like she was scratching at an itch.

  Harlan shifted, attempting to grab her feet for a rub. Disappointed when she moved them away. “Yes, sound asleep. Your lawyer called earlier.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer.”

  “The one who was handling the adoption?”

  Her eyes popped open and she turned to face him. “Oh, gosh. Yeah. What was his name? Bower?”

  “Marvin Bower.”

  “That’s the one. What did he want?”

  “He said there was some paperwork you didn’t sign or he didn’t file or something. The state is getting involved.” Cutting straight to the heart of the matter without sidestepping.

  She bolted upright. “Excuse me?”

  “Calm down, I have it handled.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And how exactly do you have it handled?”

  “I knew there was no way you forgot to sign the paperwork, so I went through your office and found it.”

  Olympia wasn’t amused. Harlan noticed she was no longer exhausted, but sullen. The claws coming out. “You went through my office?”

  “I’m helping you. Taking care of things for you.” He tried to focus on the positives rather than the negatives.

  “Taking. Care. Of. Things. For. Me.” She said each word slowly, as if chewing them before spitting them out. “Harlan, surely I don’t need to tell you how this is fifty shades of wrong. You do not go through my personal papers.”

  “I was trying—”

  “It’s not in your job description. You don’t fight my battles for me. You let me handle this because this is my life. I should have been made aware of the situation before you took it upon yourself to help.”

  Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. “If you recall, I did try to talk to you about it. And you told me to get things done because you were too busy to be bothered.”

  Her mouth snapped shut. There was a slight pause before she barked out, “We are not having this conversation. There has to be some kind of mistake.” She got to her feet, pausing for a moment to stare down at him. “Next time, stay out of my business. It isn’t your place.”

  “Wow. What a horrible thing to say to me.” He followed her down the hallway, taking a sharp left into her study near the front door. “Not my place? I’m sorry, maybe you’d care to enlighten me.” He watched her root through her desk, not yet ready to tell her he’d already found the papers and faxed them over to the lawyer’s office. “What exactly is my place, Olympia?”

  “You’re here to watch Renee. Maybe do some light cooking, some light cleaning. Period.” She jerked open a drawer and then slammed it shut seconds later.

  “And fuck you when you have an itch?”

  She winced at his tone. Good, he thought. “How vulgar.”

  “It’s true though, isn’t it? That’s really all I am to you. A fill-in when you need something, easily expendable and pushed aside when you don’t.” He reached out to take hold of her when she kept her back to him. “You need to listen to me.”

  “I have, and I am. I’ve considered everything you’ve said to me and now that I have a better handle on what’s going on, I can make an informed decision.”

  “What I have to say doesn’t matter at all?”

  “I already told you,” she said slowly. “I’ve considered your opinion.”

  “But it doesn’t make a difference?”

  “If I’m being honest, no. It doesn’t make a difference, because in the end I need to do what I feel is right.”

  “That’s rich. Is this how you treated your husband?”

  Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “There’s a big difference in these situations.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you aren’t my husband! You’re not even my boyfriend. Occasional lover and…and…employee.”

  His gaze hardened. “You’re really bringing money into this?”

  She huffed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

  He had a moment’s attack of guilt for wanting to press her when she looked delicate enough to shatter. Right now, staring at him, she didn’t look as though she had the willpower to stand up on her own.

  “What you’re saying,” he clarified, a sliver of cold creeping into his gut and freezing him from the inside, “is that you don’t want to be with me.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want to be with you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Her words were worse than a slap. Worse than a punch in the gut or a kick between his legs. Worse than any kind of pain she could inflict on his body. He physically recoiled from her, his arms shifting to cross his chest. As though it might offer some kind of protection.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I wish you would have told me this before we slept together,” he said slowly.

  “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean for it to come out so rudely.” Her answer was accompanied by an absent shrug.

  “No, don’t. I can’t take you apologizing to me. I’m going to get my coat and go.”

  She refused to look at him, keeping her face downturned and away from him. “I think that’s best.”

  Another slap. Harlan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ll come back in the morning when you’re in a better mood.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay to work here?” she said. “I mean—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to tell me that I’m fired. Or that I can’t somehow handle myself. I’m here for Renee, and I guess somewhere along the line I forgot that.”

  “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have seduced you. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Okay, I was, but I didn’t care about them. Then.” She’d made her choice. So why did it hurt so much?

  “Olympia…you don’t get to play the guilt game, either. I made my own choices, okay? I made my bed the same way you made yours. I can handle myself,” he assured her. “I’m a big boy.”

  This was the best way. She knew it. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I know. But I can’t apologize again, even though I want to. Now, if you don’t mind, I need the number for the lawyer so I can find out what he needs and get the paperwork sent to him immediately.”

  “I sent it already,” he replied without emotion.

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Fine.”

  Then, with nothing else to do, she took off past him, keeping her gaze locked on her feet. It was better than looking up to see the bitter disappointment she already knew was on Harlan’s face. She’d hurt him. And although part of her was convinced it had to be done, another part was screaming in protest. What had she done? Why was she pushing him away when all she wanted to do was draw closer, have those strong arms around her and assure her tomorrow was going to be better. The next day better still.

  But she kept walking.

  “I’ll be here around nine for Renee.”

  “Fine.”

  Was that the only word she knew? No, but it was the only one coming easily for her.

  Harlan collected his things and left without another word, quietly closing the door behind him. At least he had
n’t slammed it. She would have, if she were in his shoes, and would have enjoyed the way the wood slapped against the latch and reverberated along the walls. Might have even enjoyed knowing it would wake the baby and leave her screaming behind. But Olympia was too old to give in to such immature temptations. It was refreshing to see that despite his being years younger than her, Harlan hadn’t either.

  She dragged herself up the stairs with the entire bottle of wine and wondered when she’d turned into such a bitch. Which was a nice way of putting the hardboiled workaholic she’d become. A woman who would rather put her nose to the grindstone and exist wearing blinders than lean on someone. A woman who would rather push people away than acknowledge her own vulnerability.

  When she sat on her bed, memories of her nights with Harlan came to mind and she drowned them in a long sip of red wine. Her mind shied away from the topic before landing on one equally painful.

  The lawyer had called about Renee. Oh, dear God.

  Well, it was too late in the evening to call him now. Olympia would have to give him a ring in the morning to see if everything was indeed right with the case, as Harlan said. She couldn’t afford to lose her niece. Not when she’d fallen in love with the little snot. Their routine was about to change, sure, but at long last they’d become comfortable with each other. Dependent on each other. What would she do if the courts took Renee away?

  Which of course brought her full circle to Harlan and had her feeling the urge to bury her face in her pillow and wail. Knowing there was no one around to judge her for it, she decided to do just that.

  In the morning, Harlan came back but refused to speak or look at her except when necessary. Olympia wasn’t ready yet to admit how much this distressed her. She also wasn’t ready yet to try to fix it with him. First things first, and that meant dealing with the adoption snafu.

  She grabbed the folder of paperwork and went to start her car. While it warmed up, she drew in a deep breath and leaned her head against the back of her seat, hands on the chilly steering wheel, and wondered where along the line she’d stopped trusting people. Or why she kept trying to handle things herself instead of letting people in.